


Witness

by amuk



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2736200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She dreams of Luke sometimes, of his final moments. Of blood and a ragged whisper. --Annabeth, Thalia, and a silent grief</p>
            </blockquote>





	Witness

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Dec 29 // do you think about any of them?
> 
> A/N: Awwwkarrddd writing, but I wanted to do a piece on these three. They’re just too tragic. D:

“Do you think of him?” Annabeth asks as Thalia sits next to her. The wooden log has the best view of the sea and in the moonlight, it glitters.

 

“Sometimes,” Thalia answers, shifting till their shoulders bumped. They haven’t been like this since she was seven and on the run.

 

“We sat here sometimes,” she says, staring up at the moon. “After you were gone, just to...remember.”

 

“You’re idea, I bet.” Thalia pats the log next to her. “He was never a fan of cliffs.”

 

“I think that was because of you.”

 

“I was that easy to figure out?” Thalia shakes her head. “Great.”

 

“You can’t spend that much time with someone and not notice.” Annabeth laughs. “Besides, it was pretty obvious that time we hid in that office building.”

 

“Damn.” Thalia falls silent and Annabeth closes her eyes, listening to the wind as it blows to the trees. In the distance, she can hear the waves crashing on the beach.

 

They camped on many nights like this and if she doesn’t look, she’s seven again. Scared but happy, between her two favourite people.

 

“Can’t sleep?”

 

“No...” Annabeth opens her eyes now. “I...sometimes I dream of his death.”

 

Those final moments, the blood sticking on her hands. A golden knife, a ragged whisper.

 

Words that still echo in her heart now.

 

“For me, it’s not his death...but those nights. When we were sleeping next to each other, just talking...” Thalia’s voice trails off and Annabeth nods. The constellations from those nights are carved in skin.

 

“I don’t think there was anything we could have done,” she confesses, bitterly.

 

“Maybe.” Thalia drapes her arm around Annabeth’s shoulder, pulling her closer. “I wish we could have.”

 

“Me too.” She turns her face and buries it in Thalia’s shirt, gripping it as the tears flow down her face. If Thalia cries, she doesn’t let on.

 

Only the moon is witness to this private grief.

 


End file.
